Who knew learning to lick a spoon with sunflower seed butter could be so funny? These kids crack me up!
(Eleanor, Toby, Callista)
Two years ago today, I cracked like never before. I’d been heartbroken and elated in my past, but the two had never combined in one moment, and it drove me to hiccupy, giggly, choked-back sobs.
Triplets.
Selective reduction.
One or all three may not make it past first trimester.
Severe handicaps.
Premature birth.
Fetal demise.
Those were the grim words my reproductive endocrinologist was charged with presenting the day of my first ultrasound. Being in the business of making babies, I know she would have much rather that appointment been filled with happy tears and congratulations rather than a somber look and a warning to keep the news between Rob and I to save from sharing bad news with family in a matter of days or short weeks.
It didn’t take more than a glance at Rob to know we wouldn’t choose to reduce the number of babies. While we were both terrified facing the ultrasound screen, the news started sinking in after we left, and we began talking on the drive away about whether we could fit three carseats in my Hyundai Santa Fe or if I’d need to upgrade before they arrived.
It was on that drive that we dubbed them P, B and J because A, B and C seemed too clinical and too generic for our babies.
Despite the fears, risks and mountains of unknowns, our trio weren’t a sentence of gloom and doom. They were ours, and on top of the heap of fear that formed an uneasy base for the pregnancy grew hope, dreams and love.
Triplets; A, B, C; PB&J; 1, 2, 3; ETC; Tobias, Eleanor and Callista – our babies.
I’m just too much lately – too busy, too stifled, too uninspired – for lengthly, thought-out blog entries. That doesn’t meant I can’t do something here, though.
Here’s what we’ve been up to recently:
Reading I just finished reading “Lord John and the Scottish Prisoner,” by Diana Gabaldon. It’s the fourth Lord John Grey novel, and I liked it fine. I didn’t love it like I have most of her Outlander series books, but it was enough Jamie to hold me over till God only knows when her next Outlander novel is published. The best/most annoying part of the book was the included excerpt from that next book. If you’ve read the most recent Outlander book, “An Echo In The Bone,” you know how frustrating the cliffhanger-of-the-century ending was. I’ve never been driven to hurl a book at a wall, but I came damn close after finished AEITB. ANYHOW. The excerpt did exactly what the end of AEITB didn’t do, and there are still plenty of what-happens-next feelings without the where’s-the-rest-of-the-book anger.
I’ve just started re-reading (re-re-re-re?) “Catching Fire,” by Suzanne Collins (though I’m doing the audiobook this time), and I’m about to dive head-first into “What Happened to Goodbye,” by Sarah Dessen. After that, I’m hoping to start George R. R. Martin’s Game of Thrones series. Oh, and Divergent and Insurgent, by Veronica Roth. Then, of course, are more books I’m itching to re-read – Tolkien’s Hobbit and LoTR trilogy, John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars, and, frankly, I’d like to wander through the other Dessen books I own – I love them most during the summer.
As for children’s books, I haven’t been terribly moved by anything we’ve read recently. With our library story time on hiatus through May, we haven’t spent much time at the library – unloading and loading for only 10 minutes of quality library time is a lot more work than doing it all for story time PLUS 10 minutes of library time. But! We’re back on for next week, so I hope to find something new and exciting. Suggestions are welcome!
Eating Feeding three sick and/or teething kids over the last month has been fairly trying. And the opinions. Oh, the toddler opinions. I can’t so much as breathe near the pantry without starting a ruckus over the graham crackers that live there. (And while I found it snortily hilarious that they said “cock” for cracker at first, I’m somewhat relieved to hear it slowly morphing away from that.) In the spirit of healthy living with a side of scary family histories and a dash of small preemies, we try to limit the cock cracker intake to one full cracker per kid per day. I know. I’m so mean. But! We started giving them some popcorn, and I admittedly made the mistake of letting them try an unhealthy kind first. It’s just so good. That wins me a cool mom point, right?
Kettle corn. I’ve made probably four batches in the last two-ish weeks. It’s that good. And that easy. Try it and thank me later for sifting through google and recipes to find a winner that is easy and delicious.
On the healthier side of the spectrum, beets made their debut in my house last week with our weekly CSA box. I haven’t had so much as a glimpse of a beet outside of a store since I was a kid. My parents boil them and soak them in vinegar, and I can still remember how foul I found the taste more than 20 years ago.
But I can’t argue with having it already in my house, so I tried it. And I liked it. Sort of.
I washed, peeled and cubed the beets before tossing them in olive oil and salt and roasting them on a baking sheet for 55 minutes at 425 F. Toby couldn’t get enough. Callista thought they were great. Eleanor wasn’t terribly impressed and chewed/spit out more than she chewed/swallowed. Rob only had a few bites, as he got home a bit late, but he said he wanted more. Me? I wasn’t impressed. They were OK, but I don’t know that I’d ever see one again and think, “Man! That would be TASTY.”
Watching Despite my nerdiness, despite my love of teen entertainment, despite my generation’s duty – I never saw a single episode of Buffy. My reasons varied from loving the movie version and not liking the different Buffys to cringing at the cheesy vampire faces to just being a sour sally about WB/CW shows. I blame the bad opening credits and commercials because I haven’t actually watched a WB/CW show and not like it. The commercials make me hate them all, though.
Hold onto the torches and pitch forks, though, because I’ve finally watched some Buffy (four seasons now!), and I just started watching Angel. I’m not in love, per se, but I am enjoying both series. I mean, David Boreanaz – enough said.
As for the littles, they are downright obsessed with Baby Signing Time. Toby signs and says, “Baby, baby, baby,” with the most pathetic, wanting, needing, pleading voice and expression that I’ve found it difficult to say no, which I usually do to limit TV time. The plus side is they’ve learned a lot of signs, and communicating with toddlers is the bomb diggity. There are plenty of DVDs we don’t own in the series, but budget and frankly need doesn’t warrant adding more to our library right now. (Unless you count my need for more/different songs because ugh with the endless “Can You Feel It? I Can Feel It!” lyrics.)
We’re celebrating three special half birthdays today as Tobias, Eleanor and Callista hit 18 months old, crossing the threshold bringing them closer to 2 than they are to 1.
The only way to describe life with three 18-month-olds is “full.” It seems they learn new things by the minute, whether it’s new words (Mama, Daddy, hi, bye, snack, bed, dance, book, blanket, jump, Rocky, dog, cat, kitty, Grandpa (C only), car, banana, apple, play, rock, slide, crawl, sticker, duck, quack, bowl, cup, tickle, walk (E only), down, done, uh-oh, no, yes, ball, bubble, go, cracker, cheese, please (T only), water, bean, pool, bath, barn, chicken (E), sock (which means shoe, but we’re working on it!), Gabba, and I swear they have a word for Harry Potter) or signs (more, all done, water, eat/food, apple, banana, cracker, baby, thank you, please), skills like climbing, trying to jump, running while paying attention to small toys on the floor, new dance moves or fine-tuning methods of throwing a tantrum. They’re always coming up with new stuff, and it blows my mind.
Toby
Because we switched pediatricians the month they turned a year old, we’re now two months behind in well-child checkups. This means I don’t have official 18-month measurements, and I’m not really sure how they measure up developmentally. It kind of makes me antsy, but all I can do is accept that they know more today than yesterday, and they’re growing out of clothes and shoes. Old fashioned watchfulness, right?
I’ve become their Official Interpreter, a job that ranks nearly as high as their Safe Haven. They say a ton of words, and the list of words fully and correctly annunciated continuously grows, but only I can understand that bee-ah means bed. They all have their own personal dialect, and my fluency grows with each adaptation.
I’m definitely better built as a mom of toddlers than I was a mom of infants. The workload has probably increased, and recent bouts with teething and growth spurts have interrupted once-restful nights, but the payout is far greater in quantity and quality. There’s nothing like a decisive smooch on the lips, a giant bear hug from tiny arms or a loving pat on the arm or back.
Eleanor
Parental cliche says you don’t remember life before kids. I disagree. I remember it vividly. I remember the RE visits, the months of hope, the months of heartbreak, and I definitely remember the years Rob and I spent together before deciding to share each other with kids. I remember being able to say, “Let’s see a movie tonight,” and walk out the door with no more thought than to make sure we let the dog out before we left.
What I don’t remember is loving life as fully as I do now. Sure, I have more frustration and worry than ever before, but I can’t remember laughing so much or crying so many happy tears. I can’t remember feeling such pride. Bed never felt so good at the end of the day, and a shower was never quite so refreshing.
I try so hard to pay close attention each day. They make and change habits so quickly that it’s hard to commit one to memory before something new takes its place. I try to take photos and record videos, but documenting the lives of three toddlers can only go so far before documenting takes the place of sharing, and while I don’t want to forget these moments, I’d rather enjoy them now and only fleetingly remember certain details than see photos or video later and wish I had put down the camera and become a part of whatever activity.
Callista
Their favorite foods are graham crackers, cheese, strawberries and toast with sunflower-seed butter. They love to drink ice-cold water or warm bath water (gag!). Favorite activities include dancing (anything with a good beat works, but Lady Gaga and Beyonce top their list), singing, reading, being chased and hanging out with our dog and cat (they squat down to say hi then go in for kisses and “hugs,” which is really just laying their head on the cat/dog belly/back). Their new obsession is going for walks outside, and they’re getting better at holding our hands, which means I have less anxiety and backaches from lunging to re-grab a loose hand.
I could go on and on, but like I said about photos and video, I’ve found a line in documenting our lives. Time is short, and there are many things to do rather than talk about – like laundry. It’s naptime, so I’m off to be productive in other parts of the house, not just in the office. Pip pip!
